


Isn't that your job?

by OmegaWolfy



Series: Personal Stress Relief. [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Deals With The Devil, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I shouldn't be messing with this kindda juju but oh well, I'm shitting on rituals, Pizza, Sorry Not Sorry, kindda crack?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 06:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmegaWolfy/pseuds/OmegaWolfy
Summary: A young man is surprised to find that he was actually able to do anything with the creepy book he'd checked out from the library.With a demon asking him what he wants to trade his soul for, he gives his honest answer. But the order of words isn't taken into account.





	Isn't that your job?

"Pentagram is drawn..." A boy in his late teens goes through a book he found at the library, listing off the checklist of what he supposedly needed.  
"Candles lit." He hoped ocean breeze scented would work. And it went on like this. He'd even gotten some tag board out to draw the pentagram because his mother would kill him if he'd draw on the floor with anything, not to mention blood. Which was rather hard to get because he couldn't bring himself to cut his own hand, or harm an animal of any kind...  
But his dad had brought home some really 'juicy' steak that morning, and he was able to drip enough off of that to get what he needed.  
"Alright, last thing I have to do..." He squints his eyes trying to read the page. His glasses were somewhere in the room, he'd given up looking for them. "Latin phrases..." And very unsteadily he begins to say the words printed on the page.  
Finishing the page was probably the hardest thing to do. A lot of it was covered in graphite pencil and some of it might have been pronounced wrong. (Most of it probably was.) And when he finished, the boy looked about the room. Nothing seemed to change. Nothing dripped eerily down the walls, no hell fire or smoke, nothing. Officially disappointed, he turned back to his bloody tagboard, but there were some polished shoes standing in the middle, attached to a well-dressed man, who, when locked eyes with, pulled some spectacles from a breast pocket and began to read from a piece of paper.  
The man reads a few words, mostly about how he could now make a deal with the devil, in exchange for his soul, but the boy was mostly shocked. Had it actually worked?  
"Umm, excuse me?"  
"What, I'm here to grant the deal you want me to fulfill, now, what do you want in exchange for your soul."  
"I'm not really sure. I didn't think this would work." So it turned out that he really hadn't been dreaming when that woman showed up in his room a few weeks ago.  
A deep sigh escaped the somewhat ashen colored man. But the longer the boy looked at him, the more it seemed his skin was reddish, then deep browns and blacks, or turning a rather pale. What stayed the same was his hair, and horns sprouting from the top of his forehead. His eyes blazed with many colors of fire, first blues and green, but the longer the boy stalled the warmer the colors changed like yellows and oranges.  
"I could do practically anything for you. You promise me your soul when you die, and I'll collect then. But for now, I can change your entire life." Snapping, the man - presumably the devil - changed the room they were in. Glossy marble floors, piles of money, women of all kinds (Some men too). Butlers, everything went by in a blur until he was back in his somewhat messy room.  
"Could you give me a few more examples?"  
"Riches beyond your wildest dreams, talent never before seen by the mortal eye, friends, a better family, a happy life, prosperity in the loins, whatever you could possibly want." Seeming to have to explain this, his eyes grow a bit darker, but slowly mellow back to a yellowish tint.  
"Hmmm, I want... Pizza."  
"I shall grant your--Wait for what?"  
The boy nods, as though this answer suits him. "Yeah, pizza."  
"You're...giving up your soul, life essence, what allows you to be able to be reincarnated or makes yourself you, for pizza?"  
"It's not good enough-" The boy mutters. "Okay, um, all the pizza I could ever want - Oh! without gaining weight!"  
The devil finds himself taking a deep breath, his eyes once again a darker orange, and he's trying to refrain from shouting at the teen.  
"Okay - umm - How about all the pizza I could ever want, and you?"  
This was new, thinking of others while making a deal. Well, not new, just very uncommon.  
"Fine, you can have your damned pizza, now please shut the hell up."  
"Aren't you supposed to be the one who shuts hell?"

**Author's Note:**

> ...  
>  I really hope no one tries to stop me.  
> These characters tho unnamed are now my children.


End file.
